You can't all of a sudden go to sleep one night and wake up Martha Stewart. It's bit by bit by bit.

I would rather receive a Pap smear from Captain Hook than venture out on New Year's Eve.

For the record? I have never been her baby. In fact, I reject the notion of coming out of her body. I prefer to believe I was hatched, or perhaps purchased.

The living room is a monument to my impulsive spending habits. I've got more than two hundred DVDs, including cinematic greats such as Monkey Bone, Corkey Romano, and A Night at the Roxbury, leading me to believe not only do I have awful taste in films, but I also have a Chris Kattan fixation. What I don't have is $4000 earing intrest in a money market account.

I still believe in the Holy Trinity, except now it's Target, Trader Joe's, and IKEA.

Quinn Cummings is a master story-teller and her book is nothing short of delightful. Her insights into topics like celebrity, parenting, and cats with a taste for homicide are pithy and uproarious and not to be missed. Notes from the Underwire is charming, hilarious, and just snarky enough to be ultimately satisfying.

I think people tend to be very myopic and they dont understand how their actions impact others.